


Prayers to a Nameless God

by Deejae_Jane



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abortion, Action/Adventure, Adult Hermione, BAMF Hermione Granger, Child Abuse, Childhood Friends, Discussion of Abortion, F/F, F/M, Falling In Love, Friendship/Love, Good Draco Malfoy, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Love, Magical Realism, Mean Harry, Memory Alteration, Muggle/Wizard Relations, Nice Draco, Non-Canon Relationship, Pureblood Politics, Teen Pregnancy, Time Travel, Unplanned Pregnancy, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-22
Updated: 2015-04-23
Packaged: 2018-03-25 05:02:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3797713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deejae_Jane/pseuds/Deejae_Jane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Not everyone is as liberal as you are,” Pomfrey said, her tone even. “I won’t tell you not to do this. I have no right to do that. Plenty of girls come in here looking for answers. But personally, I would keep any comments about mistakes to yourself. No one wants to hear babies are unwanted. It might be true, but no one wants to hear it.” </p>
<p>Hermione makes the hard choice to terminate her pregnancy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Serum 19

Serum 19

         

When nervous, Hermione liked to organize facts about the people around her. It could be as simple as: *Ron has worn that same shirt three times this week.* It was a bit like meditation, though she was rubbish at anything truly spiritual. Her Patronus—an otter—remained the closest thing to a _divine spell_ as she would come.

Still, Hermione remained outside the wooden door for almost five minutes, doing her best to make Madame Pomfrey as human as possible. *Poppy Pomfrey has worked here since 1971. She was likely born in 1954. Or sooner. Her first name is Poppy, which is used to make Opium. The Opium War…*

When she had recited almost all of the types of tea Poppy liked to cook for her patients, she knocked on the door. Hermione hated the way the rooms echoed, like hollowed out bone. The sound caused her to curl into herself. Still, she tried to keep her *fear* to herself. *No, fear is not the right word. Apprehension, shame, a little bit of excitement.*

“Enter.”

Hermione opened the door slowly, the cold iron making her hands feel wooden. Adjusting her pink sweater, Hermione stepped into the dim room. Unlike a normal hospital, the infirmary was medieval at best. The beds were from this century, with clean, white sheets. But the enchanted torches and grey walls reminded her of the Inquisition.

“Um… It’s… That is…” Hermione began. She rounded her shoulders and nodded once, to herself. “I would like to talk to you for a minute.”

“You can have me for the next several hours,” Poppy Pomfrey said, turning steel blue eyes on the younger girl. “Minerva was just here not an hour ago, asking if I could clear my schedule for a very special procedure.”

Pomfrey gestured for Hermione to close the door. It took a moment for Hermione to move, but she closed the door gently. There was no one in the room, the beds all pressed and empty. But she still felt like she had to move softly, speak slowly. Perhaps it was surviving a war, but Hermione preferred things silent and neat. Still, the lack of another exit made the room feel smaller by the minute.

          “Err… It is hard to explain. I just wondered… You see…” Hermione faltered. Putting her hand on her abdomen, Hermione blushed bright red. “You see, I might have gotten into a bit of trouble.”

          “Minerva has told me all about it—or at least the *pertinent* parts.” Pomfrey almost smiled. “I don’t want the details, dear. I know what needs to be done. It is best if we left all parties nameless.”  

          Hermione blushed. “I’m of age…”

          “You would think, a girl your age would have her contraceptive spells down.” Pomfrey moved around the room with amazing familiarity. She opened a yellow cabinet in the corner, one Hermione had never noticed before. There was a small symbol on the door—a bird in flight—which caused Hermione to step closer. Pomfrey clicked her tongue.

The bottles were arranged on a small, silver tray. The contents of the bottles resembled brightly colored *pus.*

Hermione moved until her back was against a wall. She bit her lip before speaking again. “Madame Pomfrey…”

“Yes?”

“I cast them perfectly. I have never had this issue before. I think they were tampered with… as a prank. McGonagall said she thinks…” Hermione tried to find the right words. “She thinks that someone wanted me to get…”

          “Minerva told me as much,” Pomfrey said slowly. “But you should have been more careful. Purebloods are taught to bypass such spells. It’s how they make sure their beautiful brides hold up their side of the contract.”

          Hermione blinked. “I am not sure I am following.”

          “This is a historic moment, then,” Pomfrey said. Picking up the tray, she told Hermione to follow her. There was a door on the farthest wall, between the office and store room. Hermione would have missed it, had Pomfrey not pointed it out. “This is a room I hope you will never see again.”

          The moment they entered, the walls collapsed into themselves, before reforming into what looked like a prison cell. There was a toilet in one corner, a small bed in the other. Hermione looked surprised. “It’s like the Room of Requirement.”

          “Same vein of magic,” Pomfrey said. “This is the Room of Need. I helped design it in 1973.” She looked proud. A table appeared on her left and she set the bottles on the sturdy brown surface.

          “Wow.” Hermione was impressed. She hadn’t read about this Room, though she knew of three others: the Room of Honesty, the Room of Integrity, and the Room of Desire. Why they were located in the school, Hermione did not know. But the Rooms seemed to have a purpose students were not privy to.

          Pomfrey began casting silent charms on the potions, making the contents change colors rapidly. When she was done, she gestured and a chair appeared behind Hermione. “Have a seat dear, it takes 15 minutes for the spells to settle.”

          Hermione took her seat, finding it comfortable. She felt like she might fall asleep. The warmth of the room lulled her into a false sense of security. She almost forgot why she was here.

          Pomfrey on the other hand had not. “Hermione, I am going to tell you some things that you wouldn’t know. Minerva told me that you slept with a Pureblood. It is pretty obvious from the state you are in. However, I need to warn you not to tell anyone you were pregnant.”

          Hermione blinked heavy eyes. She seemed to come back into herself. “No one knows but… I can’t tell my friends?” Hermione seemed surprised by this. She had gone through a war with these people, almost died beside them.

          “Yes.”

          “Why?” Hermione asked.

          Pomfrey adjusted her white hat, smoothing a stubborn grey curl from her forehead. She had a serious twist to her mouth, eyes narrowed. “Because it will cause issues for you. People look down on this sort of thing. We do it. We have always done it. But unlike Muggle London, no one talks about this happening. Especially when it is *ending* the life of a first born.”

          Hermione opened her mouth, closing it, then letting it flop open again. “I don’t understand.”

          “Purebloods take children very seriously. A first born is thought to have a strong core, be a natural leader. These are traits any family would want in a wizard. But even a half-blood would be considered precious…” Pomfrey shrugged. “So you don’t want to go around letting people know you aborted someone’s heir.”

          “I can’t tell Harry or Ron?” Hermione asked.

          “Your friends do not know how to keep their mouths’ shut. Mr. Potter will likely keep a secret, but Ronald Weasley is known to let things slip when he is angry. How you managed to beat He-Who… Well it’s a mystery.” Pomfrey let out a small smile. “But he is not someone you want to know this.”

          Hermione nodded. “I understand.”

          “I am not trying to hurt you,” Pomfrey said. She took Hermione’s hand in her own, squeezing gently. “To be blunt, Miss Granger, I cannot know the name of the Pureblood you slept with. The moment you utter it, I have to tell him. It is part of the Oath I took as a Matron.”

          Hermione looked like an owl just waking up from a long sleep. “You can’t be serious. I would need… *his* permission to end the pregnancy?” Hermione looked offended.

          Pomfrey nodded. “I am sorry, but this is how it works in the Magical World. I do not agree, but I took an oath. So keep the name to yourself until this is handled. After the *termination* you don’t need to worry. No baby, no matrimony.”

          “I wouldn’t marry him.”

          “I know. But there are a lot of ways to make someone agree to marriage. It is best not to risk this sort of thing in the first place.”

          Hermione nodded.

          “Now, here is how this works. I need you to drink these all, one after another, as fast as you can. It will hurt and feel like you are swallowing mud. But you need to make sure you get it all down.”

          Hermione reached for the first bottle. “Will it hurt?”

          “You will spend several hours worshipping the ivory throne over there,” Pomfrey said. “While I don’t agree with the way these potions work, you will need to make sure you ride it out. I can’t give you anything for the pain. You need to learn your lesson.”

          “A lesson?” Hermione smoothed her skirt. “It seems so old fashioned here, sometimes.”

          “The potion used by people outside of the school take about two minutes and leave one feeling dizzy,” Pomfrey said. “But as a student, you will have to go through the learning process, which includes a lot of interesting side effects. You won’t die, but you might want to.”

          Pomfrey uncorked all the potions and handed the first one to Hermione. “Bottoms down?”

          Hermione took the bottle from Madame Pomfrey and threw her head back. It felt like cement in her mouth. She swallowed with the help of some conjured water. She made a face at the six bottles waiting for her.

Hermione drank them in quick succession. Pomfrey muttered something under her breathe, causing Hermione’s insides to seize. She rushed for the toilet, roaring vomit into the Forever Clean toilet.

“See you in three hours,” Pomfrey said, leaving the room. She closed the door behind her. Casting a silence charm, Pomfrey went about her business. It was never a highlight of her day, but she almost felt bad for Hermione Granger. Whomever broke her spells did a good job of it.


	2. 18 Ways to Forget

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A long walk, a short lie

CHAPTER TWO: Eighteen Rules for Better Behavior  
Sunday—  
We all make mistakes,   
Don’t let the past make you bitter,   
Let it make you better.   
XXX

When the fog lifted, Hermione found herself prone on the floor. She had a thin layer of filth covering every inch of her—inside and out. She ran her tongue over her teeth and gagged. It felt as if she had eaten a large batch of cotton candy, the vomit sweet and acidic. 

She touched her hair and winced. The curls were twisted into dreadlocks at her nape. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a rubber band to transfigure order in chaos. She wouldn’t let people see her like this, as if she was someone to be humbled before their high horses. She had heard the term “walk of shame.” She didn’t think she would ever be the sort of girl to walk the halls in yesterday’s clothing. 

Hermione squared her shoulders and stood up. She did it slowly, so the blood wouldn’t rush to her head. Her back cracked, then her hips, knees, and ankles. 

Relief cooled her skin. She waited a few moments more, hoping her insides would remain uncoiled. 

Time to go back to the dorm.

Hermione spent the next ten minutes trying to make herself presentable. She used every potion she could think of. She washed her face with water and adjusted her clothing. Then, with a sense of dread, she walked to the door and opened it. 

She could still feel the hot cling of grime against her skin. 

Pomfrey was awake when she left. The clock on the wall said 5:00AM. She had time for a shower before she went to lunch. She gave the matron a hard look before she left the stone room. 

The hallways had long shadows. She didn’t see anyone during her walk, though the portraits sometimes blinked down at her. There were whispers. But nothing that would make her look like some sort of fool. Hermione Granger was well known for sneaking about like a burglar. 

When she arrived at the Head Dorm, she dropped into bed like a rock from heaven. Her wand slipped from her fingers onto the floor. She didn’t even bother to remove her shoes. 

She awoke three hours later, feeling a little better. She rolled out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom. Stripping out of her filthy things, she went to the bath tub and began fine-tuning the enchanted knobs. The smell of lavender and heather filled the room. Steam settled on the mirror. 

Hermione sank into the water with glee. She luxuriated in the bath for almost an hour. When she felt human again, she brushed her teeth and dried her hair. She was pleased with the way she looked, pleasant, boring, and virginal. Which is how Ron described her look, like a librarian with dust up her baby hole. 

At noon, Hermione followed her hunger to the Great Hall. She figured she would get some light reading in before hanging out with Ginny and the boys. Then she would meet her prefect partner to do patrol.

She could put yesterday behind her and never think about it again. Perhaps in the future, when she was established in her career, she might revisit the horrific treatment of students in her position. Or maybe she would never mention it again. 

Hermione was surprised to see Harry outside the Great Hall. He didn’t have his robes on and his hair looked wet. He must have just taken a shower. Which meant he had woken up about thirty minutes ago. If his lazy expression was anything to go by, Ginny Weasley would have a pretty good idea why he was still tired. 

“Hey!” Hermione said. 

Harry jerked, his expression going slack before he pulled her into a hug. “Where were you?!” 

Hermione pulled away, still feeling a little tender. “I caught the Belly Bug.” She tried to look casual. She wanted to tell Harry the truth, but Pomfrey had been very persuasive. There was no need to risk it getting around. 

“I would have gone with you. You could have told us where you would be.” Harry looked relieved. “I am glad you are okay.” 

“And have you be bored while I got some stupid potions? You and Ginny needed some time alone,” Hermione said. She tried to sound flippant. Holding up her hands to ward off more questions, she told Harry she just wanted some food. 

“Okay, okay, go get some food. I am sure you want to get back to the books,” Harry said teasingly. Still, he seemed hurt. Hermione could not imagine what she had done to make him look so pensive. Then again, it might not be her, exactly. Harry never liked being outside of the loop. 

“I’m going inside.” Hermione gave a little wave. With a push, the door opened and she was swallowed by the loud conversation and bright lights.


End file.
